It’s incredible that, over 25 years after Kurt Cobain’s death, previously uncirculated Nirvana video continues to pop up. We recently told you about the freshly unearthed 1991 footage, and now we’re here to inform you about a newly uncovered clip, one that dates from the group’s formative years.

In late 1988, Nirvana were still very much a young band. Their first record, the “Love Buzz”/“Big Cheese” 45, which was the inaugural release for the Sup Pop Singles Club, came out in November, and the following month, the Sub Pop 200 compilation was issued, and that included the group’s song “Spank Thru.” Sub Pop 200 was the boldest offering yet from the label, a lavish, limited edition vinyl box set containing twenty songs from twenty bands, pressed on three EPs, with a booklet.
 

 
To celebrate the release of Sub Pop 200, a two-night party was held at the Underground, a club in Seattle. On December 28th, the first night, Nirvana opened the sold-out show. An audio recording of their set has been online for years, but no video was known to exist. That all changed this week, when the first song Nirvana played that night, “School,” appeared on YouTube. Footage taken from two different camera angles were edited together and synched with the audience recording, giving us our first glimpse of this early Nirvana performance.
 

 
The band are introduced by local poet Steven Jesse Bernstein, and after a bit of tuning, the group launches into “School.” The song would be included on Nirvana’s debut album Bleach, which was being recorded during this period.
 

 
Besides Go-go, the music scene of Washington D.C. in the eighties was largely defined by the birth of hardcore and the influential ‘Revolution Summer’ movement that followed. At its forefront were bands like Bad Brains, Minor Threat, Government Issue, Scream, Rites of Spring, Embrace, Fugazi…. need I say more?
 
Something beautiful about punk rock is that for every scene that budded in America, there were a few bands that were simply nontraditional. Perhaps the members didn’t dress like everybody else. Maybe they had different influences. Or better yet, they played a completely different style of music altogether.
 
But that didn’t change if a band was punk or not. Because who gives a fuck
 

 
The Obsessed are a band from Maryland that Ian Mackaye tipped me off on. They formed in the late-seventies in Potomac, about a thirty minute drive from the Capitol. The leader of the group is a guy by the name of Scott Weinrich, but people know him as “Wino.” As far as I’m aware, there was no tougher motherfucker in the scene than Wino.
 
The band went through several lineup changes over the years, but not much else has changed. They were quintessential lifers; longhairs from the suburbs who ripped fat doom metal riffs and lived to play rock & roll. Henry Rollins described them as a band that truly represented America’s youth culture. They had nothing to lose, so there was nothing to lie about.
 

Early Obsessed Gig
 
Evidently, The Obsessed and its fans found themselves intermingling with the burgeoning hardcore movement of nearby Washington D.C. They’d play with bands like Bad Brains, Iron Cross, and the Dead Boys, so naturally they became a crossover band between hardcore and heavy metal. As Ian put it, they occupied their own space in the musical world. Because nobody does it with as much conviction as Wino does. Sure, there was plenty of tension between the suburban metal-heads and the skinhead punks. Wino didn’t care, though. He liked punk rock because it was cool - and he’d beat the shit out of anyone messing with punkers. But he’d take on anybody, really.
 

Scott “Wino” Weinrich
 
With no proper music released, the band called in quits when Wino moved to California to join another important stoner rock band, Saint Vitus. Eventually, The Obsessed’s self-titled debut was released and they reformed in 1990. Within a few years, they signed to Columbia Records before dissolving once more due to poor record sales.

In anticipation of their major label debut in 1994, Columbia Records filmed a short promo documentary on The Obsessed. An introduction to the mythical band, this amazing piece of work features no holds barred-style interviews with hardcore punk and metal mainstays, like Henry Rollins, Ian Mackaye, Dale Crover, Tesco Vee, Joe Lally, and members of Pantera, White Zombie, and Corrosion of Conformity. There is early performance footage of the band at a local high school, recordings of Wino shredding it up in the studio, and commentary by members of the band (and some super-‘Obsessed’ fans). Oh, and a story about Wino doing speed off the blade of a giant knife.
 
With the ‘boom’ of doom in recent years, Wino brought The Obsessed back in 2016. They signed with Relapse Records and released Sacred in 2017 - their first record in 21 years.
 
Watch the amazing ‘94 documentary on D.C.’s heavy metal crossover band and realest ones around - The Obsessed:

“Hells Angels were trying to impress Wino.”
 
Much more of The Obsessed after the jump…

A photo of Motörhead used in an article published in SPIN (February 1986) by journalist Scott Cohen declaring the band was “The Loudest Band on Earth.”
 
On the evening of December 2nd, 1984, Motörhead took the stage at the Variety Theater in Cleveland, Ohio. The performance was so decibel-heavy it broke the previous live sound record set by The Who on May 31st, 1976 at The Valley in London. The Who’s appearance at The Valley clocked in at an ear-shattering 120 decibels and got the band into the Guinness Book of World Records. Motörhead’s gig measured 130 decibels, exceeding what is known as the “Threshold of Pain” or, 120 decibels. If you need to know exactly how loud that is, the noise level associated with the Threshold is the equivalent of the sound emitted by a goddamned jackhammer.

Manowar would briefly become the first band to take the title of “Loudest Band in the World” from The Who during a gig in Hanover, Germany, in October of 1984, pumping 129.5 decibels through ten tons of amplifiers. However, that measurement isn’t far off Manowar’s sound requirements in their contract rider, guaranteeing that the band will deliver at least 126 decibels anytime they play live. Still, even on their best day, Manowar wasn’t able to break Motörhead’s record-setting sonic blast so loud it cracked the Variety’s ceiling, while plaster fell on the crowd. To further reinforce how loud Motörhead was that night, a man living near the venue reported he was able to record the show from his living room. This was all witnessed by the packed house at the Variety, including a 19-year-old Motörhead super fan (as well as the adult author of several books of pop culture history) who might have one of the coolest heavy metal brags of all time. And, just perhaps, balls as big as his hero Lemmy Kilmister. His name is Joseph Lanza, forever known as the kid who pretended to be a rock journalist just so he could meet Lemmy. And it’s the kind of scheme heavy metal dreams are made of.

When Lanza heard Motörhead was headed to Cleveland during their Death on the Road Tour, he got the idea he could pass himself off as a journalist and get into the show for free. His first move was to phone Motörhead’s label at the time, Mercury. Amazingly, he got put through to someone who actually bought his story—one he concocted by wildly exaggerating circulation numbers of a publication called Negative Print, a fanzine with a circulation of several dozen copies run by his friend David James. Lanza told Motörhead’s people that Negative Print’s circulation was around 130,000, pretty good for a 10-page zine made at the local Kinkos for free when James’ friends were working behind the counter.

It wasn’t until 72 hours before the show when he was contacted by Mercury telling him he had the green light to interview Lemmy Kilmister, and would be given full press credentials. Lanza’s access to Lemmy and the band included their time at Shattered Records, a headbanger-friendly record store where he hung out with a massive group of fans, as the current configuration of Motörhead (Würzel, Phil Campbell, and Pete Gill) signed albums. He was as nervous as anyone else might have been, and perhaps more so as he wasn’t actually a journalist, just a kid who loved Motörhead. He was becoming increasingly worried that he’d be tossed out at any moment once he was discovered. Lanza tried to look the part without going too far; he had a tape recorder, a pen, and a bunch of notes. Then, just like in a bad dream, moments before he was about to interview Lemmy, the batteries in his tape-recorder died.
 

A photo of the Variety’s marquee the night Motörhead murdered the venue. Photo by Joseph Lanza. See more of Lanza’s images of Motörhead in Cleveland here.
 
A few minutes later Lanza was kicking back with Lemmy and a bottle of Jack Daniels. The notoriously good-natured Kilmister had recognized Lanza’s unease as a byproduct of his young age and inexperience. The vocalist chain-smoked and drank his ever-present Jack and Coke. According to Lanza, Lemmy didn’t even care about the interview, he was having fun just hanging out. After leaving the tour bus to head to the show, Lanza realized that he had lost his pass, leaving him no way to get into the gig. Luckily he spotted Lemmy headed into the Variety and caught up to him, telling him he had lost his pass. Ever the gentleman, Lemmy took off his and handed it to Lanza, telling him to use it as he was pretty sure they knew who he was.

Once inside, Lanza and 1,900 Motörhead fans collectively blew their eardrums out to the punishing sounds of the band. The once opulent theater has stood in the same place since 1927, but had since fallen into disrepair. And Motörhead’s louder-than-fuck performance didn’t help. Nor did the multiple encores that went on and on while plaster fell on people’s heads below. It wasn’t until a maintenance worker for the Variety rightly worried about the integrity of the building due to the ongoing noise level, and went to the breaker box and shut Motörhead down. This pissed off Lemmy, but the band decided to call it a night. The show would help magnify ongoing issues with the Variety, which in addition to the building’s decay, included reports of safety concerns and after-hours loitering by patrons of the club. The Variety would close in 1986, and restoration work to bring the historic theater back to life continues to this day.
 

Footage of Motörhead rehearsing for their appearance on ITV’s Saturday morning kids show “Saturday Starship” in October of 1984. According to Lemmy, people complained because the band started warming up at 8:30 AM in the station’s parking lot. Said Lem: “I don’t know what the problem was. 8:30 AM was the time they gave us to rehearse and they put the stage up in the parking lot for us.”
 
HT: Cleveland.com

 
While I love all three of the Big Star albums released in the 1970s, I’ve always had a soft spot for Radio City. It’s the first one I bought, and I instantly fell for the tight-yet-loose, catchy rock ‘n’ roll embedded in the LP’s grooves. Years after becoming a huge fan of the band, I was surprised to discover that three of the songs on Radio City aren’t really Big Star at all.

The Dolby Fuckers were a studio project that consisted of Big Star’s Alex Chilton, drummer Richard Rosebrough, and bassist Danny Jones. Chilton and Rosebrough first met back when the former was fronting the Box Tops, and at the time of the recordings Rosebrough was working full-time as an engineer at Ardent Studios. Jones, a local musician, roomed with Chilton after Alex’s marriage fell apart.

There’s a lot of uncertainty surrounding the Dolby Fuckers tracks, but one thing is for sure—no one remembers, exactly, when they were recorded. It seems most likely that the sessions took place during the months-long stretch in 1973 when Big Star were inactive. After they played a series of January shows at Lafayette’s Music Room in Memphis, which were Big Star’s first public performances following the departure of Chris Bell in late 1972, the group effectively went on hiatus. They reconvened for a now legendary concert at the first and only Rock Writers’ Convention, held on May 25-26 at Lafayette’s. The band received such a positive response from notables like Lester Bangs, Nick Tosches, and a teenage Cameron Crowe, that they decided to keep Big Star going. In the fall of 1973, the group went into Ardent to cut what would become Radio City.
 

Big Star: Jody Stephens, Andy Hummel, and Alex Chilton in the William Eggleston photo that appears on the back cover of ‘Radio City.’

Here’s Richard Rosebrough on the wild late night sessions at Ardent that produced two of the songs that wound up on Radio City—“She’s a Mover” and “Mod Lang”:

The Dolby Fuckers were just some sessions we did. There was a period when I was hanging out with Alex and I may have been working all day, then we’d meet at the bar later that night. The bar was just two doors down from the studio and we’d go in the studio at 2 a.m. and just start going crazy and making these recordings…Alex at that point was starting to fall into chaos. It got to be anything could happen. (from Big Star’s Radio City (33 1/3))

 

Richard Rosebrough.

A third Dolby Fuckers track, “What’s Goin’ Ahn,” was recorded during a formal Chilton session at Ardent. 

Big Star recorded everything in their arsenal for Radio City, but it wasn’t enough for a full LP, so the Dolby Fuckers tracks were added to round out the record. The only information on the album related to the Chilton-led project is this credit: “Danny Jones and Richard Rosebrough played too.”

The British Invasion-sounding “She’s a Mover” is probably the oldest track on Radio City, possibly dating as far back as mid-to-late 1972. The looseness of the evening it was captured in is preserved in the recording, which ends with a jam. The odd feedback sounds came from waving a pair of headphones over a microphone. For reasons that are unclear, Andy Hummel later overdubbed a bass part, so he plays on the final version. Big Star took a stab at the song, but their rendering was shelved, as it was felt it didn’t have the spirit of the Dolby Fuckers’ take.
 

 
Much more Big Star, after the jump…

 
Beat Poetry for Survivalists is the whimsical—and rockin’—new collaboration between Peter Buck, late of R.E.M.—maybe you’ve heard of them?—and onetime Auteur, author, artist and radio disc jockey Luke Haines. Owing to the fact that it’s got Haines singing lyrics that he himself wrote (topics include Pol Pot, Andy Warhol, the Carpenters, 80s hairdressers, occultist Jack Parsons, the hardships of ugly people, French rock and roll, the Enfield poltergeist and other typically Hainesian concerns) and utilizes the recorder, it sounds, no surprise, not unlike a typical Luke Haines album of recent vintage, but even better.  I suspect this Peter Buck fellow might have had something to do with that. Buck’s well known to be a connoisseur of music with a massive record collection, so it’s no surprise that Haines was on his radar. The guitarist purchased one of Haines’ Lou Reed paintings (order yours here) and the rest is history…

[I just want to point out here that I, too, purchased one of Luke Haines’ Lou Reed paintings, just like Peter Buck did, but did Haines want to collaborate with me? I had the best idea ever, a sure-fire hit, an obviously Broadway-bound rock opera about the post fame “wilderness years” of Sweet’s Andy Priest—a tale of perseverance, comeback concerts at off-brand Florida amusement parks and a “Love is Like Oxygen” production number complete with oxygen tanks and wheelchairs—but with heart. I threw this out there to Haines on Twitter. Nuthin.’ Crickets. I can’t help it if I feel slighted, but I’m not bitter. I do like the painting, though.]

I asked Haines a few questions via email.

According to the early reviews, this collaboration occurred when Peter Buck bought one of your paintings. One of your Lous?

Luke Haines: So, yes. Peter Buck popped up in my inbox having just bought a painting of Lou Reed. We then started chatting on email. Peter’s pretty interested in Richard Nixon, so we chatted about “Tricky Dicky” and he mentioned that he liked my Baader Meinhof album!

Which one of you said “hey, we should do something together” first?

Luke Haines: It was me that suggested we record an album together. I’m pretty upfront. Mainly, because it’s so easy to contact people these days, I figure why the hell not? You can pretty much speak to anyone you want to collaborate with. Life is too short not to do these things.

How did you write songs together? Was it an over the internet kinda thing?

Luke Haines: The whole thing started with Peter sending me a guitar and drum machine demo that became “Jack Parsons.” I wandered round with the chords in my head and wrote lyrics and a melody. I added some extra bits: a synth, maybe another guitar. That’s how we built up the whole album.
 

Peter Buck by John Clark/Luke Haines by David Titlow

There are two other players credited. Was any of it recorded as a band?

Luke Haines: Scott McCaughey and Linda Pitmon. Everything was overdubbed. The drums went down in about two hours. Scott is from the Minus 5 and latter day REM. Linda is currently my fave drummer in the world.

Where was Scott and Linda’s contribution recorded?

Luke Haines: The whole thing was done over email. My stuff, then over to Peter and Scott. Then Linda overdubbed drums in Scott’s basement in Portland.

What about the touring band? Same players?

Luke Haines: Same line up. Three Americans and me. It’s been a while since I’ve worked with Americans. I like working with Americans, they have a very “can do” attitude. British musicians usually convince themselves out of doing anything. By the time they get to the pub they are suing each other.

There’s an American release of this one, right?

Luke Haines: Yep. First US release I’ve had for donkey’s. It’s out on Cherry Red in the UK and Omnivore Recordings in the US. CD, vinyl (that’s an elpee to us) and cassette tape. Really. March 6th.

Peter Buck has a reputation for having an amazing record collection. Did the two of you geek out over various rock snob matters and will he be a guest on your Righteous in the Afternoon radio show?

Luke Haines: The geek out is inevitable. Peter will come on my show. He has no choice.

Beat Poetry for Survivalists is out on March 6th.
 

 
In the late 1970s, Steve Piccolo was a founding member of the seminal No Wave jazz band Lounge Lizards along with John Lurie, his brother Evan Lurie and Arto Lindsay. He’d studied music at Bard and NYU and was doing performances, art and sound installations at night while during the day maintaining a job as a Wall Street computer analyst.

In 1982 Piccolo recorded an oddball—defiantly angsty and neurotically urban—low-fi minimalist singer/songwriter album titled Domestic Exile. The various songs were composed for his performances in art spaces but hang together nicely as an album due to the slightly sinister Jonathan Richman-esque persona employed on songs like “Businessman’s Lament” and “Superior Genes.” Whether or not he was actually anything like this at the time or just playing a character, I cannot say, but the image that comes to mind, to my mind at least, is that of a Wall Street guy, maybe he’s a Libertarian, on the downtown 6 train reading an Ayn Rand novel while listening to Merzbow or Swans full blast on his Sony Walkman.

Fellow Lizard Evan Lurie played keyboards on Domestic Exile and John Lurie took the photos for the cover. One of the numbers, a truly original love song called “I Don’t Want to Join a Cult” was an underground hit in Manhattan clubs and Debbie Harry reportedly wanted to do a cover version.
 

 
As no NYC-based record label was interested in releasing the album, Steve took it to to Italy where it was released by Materiali Sonori in a limited edition. In March Guerssen Records will release the first LP/CD/Digital reissue of Domestic Exile since the initial pressing in 1982. It’s a quirky collection, really unlike anything else I could think to compare it to. Highly recommended.
 

“I Don’t Want To Join A Cult”
 
More from ‘Domestic Exile,’ after the jump…

The late Layne Staley of Alice in Chains modeling the proper reaction to someone throwing up Nazi salutes. Image source.
 
As the world seems to still need a reminder that Slap-a-Nazi-Day should be observed every damn day, let’s take a look at the example set by the late Layne Staley of Alice in Chains when he spotted one in the crowd of an AIC show in Stockholm in February of 1993.

The band was in Stockholm to play a gig at Cirkus during their two-month tour of Europe with Screaming Trees. During the band’s set, Staley took notice of a skinhead close to the stage, acting like a whirling dipshit, creating a one-man moshpit of sorts, beating members of the audience and throwing up Nazi salutes. Once AIC finished up “It Ain’t Like That” (Facelift, 1990), Layne addressed the crowd with the endearing line “We love you fucking Swedish people!” and proceeded to walk to the edge of the stage to speak to a member of Cirkus’ security team. He gestured to the skinhead who had been assaulting people in the crowd and asked him to come up on stage, telling him, “Come on, man. Come join the band—have a good time.” Randy Biro, a contributing vocalist to AIC, was there (as told in the book Alice in Chains: The Untold Story by David De Sola) to see the look on the Nazi numbskull’s mug as he responded to Layne’s invitation asking “Me?”

Staley’s showstopping moment was a puzzle to everyone including the rest of AIC and the Cirkus security team. Biro recalls wondering “why the fuck” Staley was extending an olive branch to a “douchebag” skinhead. During the confusing stand-off, Layne kept encouraging him to come up and join the band on stage, which he finally did. When the skinhead was close enough for Layne, he reached down and pulled the punch-happy asshole up on stage. He then struck him in the face twice so hard the annoying Nazi fell backward into the crowd, who were collectively having a good laugh over what they just witnessed (feel free to insert your “they did Nazi that coming” jokes here). As if Layne’s impromptu romper-stomp of a skinhead’s face wasn’t enough, as the Nazi was being taken away by security, he returned to the microphone and yelled, “Fucking Nazis DIE!”, finishing the rest of their set incident-free.

I wish this was the part where Layne Staley and the band were then shuttled off to the king of Stockholm’s gothic castle to receive the key to the city, but that didn’t happen. And that’s because it’s not actually legal to slap someone (even an aggressive, Sieg-Heiling Nazi) in the face. Layne was in trouble, and he and the band knew it.

After the gig, people were nervously ruminating about the consequences of Layne’s Nazi-slapping incident, and they were right to. John Sampson, Staley’s personal security guard, took the vocalist to a ferry bound for Finland to avoid arrest. As the rest of AIC were leaving their hotel, the local authorities showed up after getting a call from the skinhead Staley had slapped. They confiscated the band’s passports and went to apprehend Layne, who was already on the ferry. The cops boarded the ferry and arrested Staley for the incident at the show. In yet another interesting twist to this story, the skinhead’s brother (who was at the gig), had also gone to the police not to defend his sibling, but to make it clear that his brother had been “picking” on people in the crowd and Layne had stopped him. Since this story really does have a happy ending for everyone except the Nazi, the police congratulated Layne and the band and sent them on their way to the next stop of their tour, Oslo, Norway . Footage of Staley setting a skinhead straight follows.
 

Footage of Layne Staley slapping an aggressive Nazi during an Alice in Chains show in Stockholm on February 8th, 1993.
 
HT: Screaming Trees official FB page.

 
The mid 1970s pairing of Mariangela, a promising young singer/songwriter, and the Greek composer/musician/producer Vangelis might have seemed illogical on paper, but the result was a unique album that, unfortunately, didn’t get its due.

At age eleven, Mariangela Papaconstantinu began playing guitar, and by the time she reached thirteen, she was writing songs. Before long, she started appearing weekly on a music television program in Greece (Mariangela is half Greek, half Italian), singing her English-language material. This led to her signing with a major label, Polygram, and beginning work on her debut album—all before she turned fourteen.
 

 
In the mid ‘70s, Vangelis Papathanassiou was becoming increasingly famous in Europe. He first achieved prominence as a member and chief composer of the prog rock band Aphrodite’s Child, with their 1972 double-album rock opera 666 getting a lot of attention, though he was still years away from the worldwide success he’d achieve with the soundtrack for Chariots of Fire. Vangelis had released three solo records when he was hired by Polygram to produce promising acts on the label; he quickly chose Mariangela.
 

Mariangela and Vangelis.

Before recording of her album in London commenced, Mariangela sang back-up vocals for a group Vangelis was producing, Socrates. The band returned the favor by playing on Mariangela’s self-titled debut.

As producer, Vangelis selected the tracks that would appear on the Mariangela record. He picked four of her songs, with the remaining seven tunes coming from various writers, including four by an obscure figure named Denny Beckermann. His “Honalulu Baby” kicks off the album and was chosen as the lead single.
 

 
The Beach Boys-esque number, like much of the album, is lavishly arranged, filled with strange synth sounds. The first of the Mariangela-penned numbers to appear on the LP, “You Are the One,” resembles an ABBA production, and is just a gorgeous pop song. Mariangela sings confidently throughout the record, and proves to be a talented songwriter, seeming older beyond her years. This is especially apparent on the melancholic “Memories of Friends,” which includes such lyrics as “good things never last for long” and “loneliness is meant to be my friend”—fairly introspective for someone barely in their teens. Other highlights include “What You’re Doing to Me” (think Olivia Newton-John gone weird), and the glorious “Rainbow,” a throwback to the sunshine pop of the 1960s.

For reasons that are unclear, Mariangela (1975) was only released in select countries, and those didn’t include England or Western Europe. The album quickly sank without a trace. Mariangela wouldn’t release a follow-up full-length until the ‘90s.

Mariangela is now a sought-after collectible. In 2012, a sealed copy of the original Canadian pressing sold for 300 bucks. 
 

 
At long last, Mariangela’s adventurous debut will be reissued on vinyl, courtesy of Telephone Explosion. Due May 1st, you can pre-order it via the label’s website.

With their announcement of the remastered record’s pending release, Telephone Explosion posted one of the songs from the album written by Mariangela, the out of this world, “My Dear Life”:
 

 
For Dangerous Minds readers, the label has uploaded the aforementioned “You Are the One”:
 

A painting by Les Edwards commissioned by KHBB advertising to be used as a poster to promote the UK release of Stephen King’s film ‘Graveyard Shift.’

 
While artist Les Edwards was a student at the Hornsey College of Art from 1968 until he graduated in 1972, he was told on more than one occasion he would never find work in his chosen profession, illustration. Edwards would ignore the advice of his peers and teachers and become a freelance artist shortly after leaving school. During his four decades as an artist, he would work with director John Carpenter and authors Stephen King and Clive Barker. Edwards’ work has appeared on books and in magazines since the late 60s, catering to the science-fiction/fantasy/horror genre, and if you are familiar with Edwards’ work, you might even be a metalhead, as his credits include a few notable album covers such as the 1983 single from Metallica, “Jump in the Fire.” An interview with Edwards from 2016 rightfully touted him as an artist that should need “no introduction.” Still, it seems Edwards’ prolific genre-specific artwork has not received the credit it clearly deserves.

Let’s try to fix that.

While he was beginning his education at Hornsey College of Art, the school was in the midst of student protests and sit-ins, unhappy with the physical state of the school and lack of funding to improve the conditions or curriculum. This would evolve into a six-week situation during which students and faculty occupied the Crouch End building on campus, best described by those there as almost “festival-like” and “empowering.” Given the general displeasure of the student body during Edwards’ time at Hornsey, it’s reasonable to believe the “advice” he received meant to deter him from his desired profession was bunk, and his early acceptance into the Young Artists agency is proof of that. Run by author and songwriter John B Spencer, the Young Artists agency represented the brightest talent in art and illustration in the UK. But, according to Edwards, none of the artists on Young Artists’ roster understood how influential their collective work would become, including future master-airbrush artist Chris Foss, and Edwards himself. Here’s a bit from Edwards reflecting on his time at school and what it actually taught him:

“There’s a lot to learn about painting, and one thing I did learn at art school was that you pretty much have to teach yourself. Also, if you’re painting day after day, you have to make it interesting and challenging, or you just become a machine.”

Looking at the kind of work Edwards put out during his career clearly demonstrates how influential his work has been. In part, we all have Edwards to thank for our modern-day preoccupation with zombies and vampires, as well as his muscle-bound Conan-esque conquerors popularized most recently in Game of Thrones. When the show became a worldwide obsession, Edwards openly speculated his younger self would “laughed” at the idea that such a show could ever exist. These days, Edwards paints more often under the name Edward Miller, illustrating and painting subjects unrelated to his award-winning “Red Period” and has been the recipient of the British Fantasy Award for Best Artist seven times. If you kept all your old heavy metal records, such as Krokus’ Alive and Screaming (1986) or Uriah Heep’s nearly perfect record, Abominog, you own artwork created by the talented Mr. Edwards. His work spanning the years 1968-1988 was compiled into the 1989 book, Blood & Iron, the only publication featuring his work to date. If you’d like to own a piece of Edwards art yourself, a large variety (including originals) can be purchased on his website. For now, please take a look at some of his work from the last few decades (and trust me, I’m just slicing through the surface here)—some are NSFW.
 

“The Monsters Escape” (private commission).
 

A portrait of author Robert Bloch for the cover of the book ‘Psychomania’ (2013). Bloch’s 1959 book ‘Psycho’ was the basis for Alfred Hitchcock’s film.
 

An image of actress and Hammer Films star Ingrid Pitt painted by Edwards for ‘The Mammoth Book of Vampire Stories By Women’ (2001).
 
More after the jump…

 
In the liner notes for an upcoming Charlie Parker box set, jazz journalist Neil Tesser writes that one of Bird’s songs suggests a style of music that wouldn’t emerge for over a decade: “…the gravity-defying ‘Constellation,’ which, with its barely sketched melody and supersonic tempo, seems to anticipate the free-jazz energy solos of the 1960s.”

Charlie Parker is one of the most influential figures in jazz, though it’s safe to say that most don’t think of the alto saxophonist in relation to the avant-garde subgenre. While one can understand how his improvisational style generally inspired the foremost free jazz musicians, it’s another thing to come to that conclusion when listening to a particular Parker track.

“Constellation” was recorded by Parker’s quintet in 1948 and released on a single by Savoy Records. Written by Bird and credited to Charlie Parker’s All Stars, the group included a young Miles Davis. On “Constellation,” Parker’s soloing frequently sounds frantic and, at times, delightfully skronky—just like the best free jazz does.
 

 
Dangerous Minds has the premiere of the fantastic, freshly remastered “Constellation” from The Savoy 10-inch LP Collection:
 

 
In the early 1950s, Savoy placed “Constellation” and the other revolutionary bebop tracks Charlie Parker recorded for the label from 1944-48 on a succession of 10-inch LPs. The audio and artwork for the four records in the New Sounds in Modern Music series have been restored for The Savoy 10-inch LP Collection box, which also includes a booklet with photos and Neil Tesser’s insightful notes.
 

 
The Savoy 10-inch LP Collection will be released February 28th by Craft Recordings on vinyl and digital formats. Pre-order the set here or head directly to Amazon.
 

 
Pianist Hal Galper and his quintet covered “Constellation” on the 1999 album, Let’s Call This That, and their full-on free jazz interpretation of Bird’s groundbreaking piece is both logical and highly satisfying.